


acknowledge one thing you can taste (strawberry lip balm)

by kodzukat



Series: this is just a bump in the road [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, Biphobia, Childhood Friends, Fluff, Gen, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempt, M/M, Tsukishima Kei is Bad at Feelings, Tsukishima Kei-centric, like only a little at the end, no its not beta read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:40:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27295804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kodzukat/pseuds/kodzukat
Summary: Kei thinks this grounding technique is stupid, but he'd like to taste the lip balm Tadashi's wearing.ORAfter an uncomfortable conversation with Akiteru worsens his guilt over not being there for Tadashi, Kei tries to quell his anxiety with a grounding technique. His efforts are fruitless, but Tadashi texts him at the right time.
Relationships: Tsukishima Kei & Tsukishima Akiteru, Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Series: this is just a bump in the road [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1979390
Comments: 8
Kudos: 130





	acknowledge one thing you can taste (strawberry lip balm)

**Author's Note:**

> i'd like to start by saying thank you to everyone who engaged with my last work! i appreciate every hit, bookmark, comment, and kudos so much, and i'm so glad that i could write something so many people enjoyed :)
> 
> !! BEFORE YOU READ !! you might be able to enjoy this without reading the first work in the series, but that's not very likely since i didn't write this as a standalone. i do give context here and there but for a better understanding of the story i recommend you read my last work.
> 
> tw; for everything tagged, but also for mentions of nausea and vomit. there is no vomiting in this so i didn't tag it, but if you are sensitive to descriptions of nausea or anything else tagged, please read with caution. otherwise, enjoy!

The conversation Kei walks in on upon his arrival home from the hospital is anything but welcoming.

“Gay marriage might become legal in America soon. They said so on the news today,” his mother says, her voice coated with displeasure, as she serves his brother more rice from across the kitchen table. “It’s sad.” 

Kei catches the way her lip curls when she says, “Gay,” and he has to hold back a scoff. There’s a sheet of sourness enfolding his tongue; an acidic taste that resembles the disappointment of biting into an unripe strawberry.

Akiteru, who sits opposite her, keeps up a passive expression, but Kei knows he wants to say more than, “Well, the world is changing, for better or for worse.”

Kei knows because when he was thirteen, before his relationship with Akiteru became as strained as it is now, he cried to his older brother in absolute terror over the way Tadashi made his chest ache. Upon hearing how Kei’s best friend made him feel the way cliché romance novels describe falling in love, Akiteru told him, “Don’t worry, I’ve liked boys, too. You’ll be okay.” Kei realized that, despite being different, he wasn’t alone.

He often assumes that he’s used to Akiteru not standing his ground against their mother, but always finds himself disheartened when his brother tells her what they both know she wants to hear. Kei stays silent at times like this. If the pressure to please is heavy, he’ll give a faint nod in agreement, but he’ll never say something that someone could twist to satisfy their own narrative.

His mother’s face softens, the corners of her lips upturning slightly in a benign smile, when she notices him standing at the door frame. “Kei, it’s late. Where were you?” she asks.

Kei twiddles the strap of his schoolbag between his fingers. “Studying at Yamaguchi’s house.” He refuses to meet her eyes.

She nods, but when Kei sees her faint smile disappear from the corner of his eye, he can tell she’s not convinced. “Come eat dinner,” she says with an urging tilt of her head.

“No, thanks,” Kei calls, already halfway to the stairs. “Not hungry.”

It’s true, He’s not hungry. The sound of Tadashi’s mother over the phone that afternoon was enough to curb his appetite for the next week. Her voice was fragile, like the ice that forms on the lake near his house every winter. He and Tadashi used to skate on it when they were younger, and it would shatter under their weight if they hadn’t waited long enough for it to freeze over. It was usually Kei who fell into the lake because Tadashi was too scared to step onto the ice before ensuring that it wouldn’t give out beneath him. When the ice did collapse, Tadashi would laugh at Kei before helping him out of the frigid water, and his freckled cheeks would glow red, not just from the biting cold but from his giggle-impaired breathing.

When Tadashi’s mother’s voice shattered over the phone that afternoon, there was nothing to laugh about.

It takes everything in Kei’s power not to slam his bedroom door shut. He knows he’d get nothing but a lecture out of it, so — pushing aside the irritation that’s singeing his nerves — he shuts the door lightly, tosses his bag to the floor, and shrugs off his jacket. His eyes wander to his desk where the numbers on his digital clock blink at him through the darkness of his room, reading, “6:15.” Normally, he would start his homework right now.

How is he supposed to carry on normally?

Exhaustion overcomes his limbs as the events of the day catch up to him and, almost involuntarily, he staggers towards his bed, succumbing to the comfort his mattress provides. He lies on his back, his arms folded underneath his head, and looks up at the ceiling. There’s a nagging weight in the pit of his stomach, like a rope tied over and over and over again until it’s nothing but one huge knot.

Tadashi never told Kei what he was going through. He never told Kei that he was hurting himself or wanted to die. He never told Kei because he didn’t expect Kei to understand. Tadashi didn’t _trust_ Kei. The knot tightens and writhes.

Kei has always protected Tadashi from bullies and thin ice, but Kei’s efforts are pointless if he can’t do anything to protect Tadashi from his own thoughts. It wasn’t bullies or thin ice that tried to kill Tadashi; it was Tadashi himself.

He recalls how Tadashi looked in the hospital bed that afternoon, completely unlike himself, IV tube pierced through the skin of his hand and bandages swathing his forearm. Although Kei doesn’t know the details of his experience, it was apparent that his two days in the hospital had left him spent. Aside from the obvious change in his radiant character, his russet eyes were glassy and his freckled skin was sallow.

All Kei could do was hold the younger boy’s hand and talk to him in a pathetic attempt to bring comfort, which has never been, and will never be his strong suit. The afterimage of Tadashi and the reverberation of both his chuckles and his sobs get blurrier and more distant as frustration clouds Kei’s head. A feeling undoubtedly recognizable as guilt flows through his veins, leaving him stuffily hot and achingly cold at the same time in a way he never knew was possible.

“Kei?” The voice is background noise to his thoughts.

Against the wishes of every muscle in his body, Kei shifts to sit at the edge of the bed, trying his best to ignore the low throb in his temples. Parallel to his bed is the door, standing next to it is Akiteru. “Haven’t I told you to knock?” Kei asks, his lips tugged into a scowl and his voice dripping with rancor. He’s unsure whether it’s the conversation he had overheard earlier or the rumination on his pitiful efforts to help Tadashi that summoned such bitterness.

The smile Akiteru wears is sheepish, but there’s a tincture of worry behind it. “I tried. I figured you might’ve been listening to music when you didn’t respond.”

Kei _would_ have been listening to music. He would do anything to drown out the clamor of his thoughts banging around within every square centimeter of his skull. Unfortunately for Kei, he left his headphones in the clubroom that afternoon when he stopped by to let the team know that he would be missing practice. Without his headphones, Kei can’t listen to music, it sounds muffled through speakers and just adds to the muddle in his brain.

After a quick flick of the light switch, which leaves Kei wincing as he adjusts to his now painfully bright room, Akiteru pulls out the chair tucked neatly into Kei’s desk. He positions it to face the bed and takes a seat. “I know you heard mom earlier,” he says. “Please, don’t let it bother you too much.” 

There’s no doubt in Kei’s mind that Akiteru has good intentions. Akiteru always has good intentions, but Kei stopped caring a while ago. “Easy for you to say,” he sneers. “You’re not a full-blown fag. You can just bring a nice girl home and make mom happy.”

Akiteru blinks slowly, taken aback. “You know that’s not how it works.” He’s quiet, as though Kei’s gibe has snatched the air from his lungs and the words from his throat.

Kei knows, and he hates himself for saying something so jaundiced, but his lips won’t form an apology. He stays silent and keeps his head hung low in his best effort to avoid seeing the expression displayed on his brother’s face.

“If I end up finding a man who makes me happy, mom will have to deal with it,” Akiteru says, his voice unwavering and assertive, a stark contrast to his hushed tone mere seconds ago. “My sexuality doesn’t come with a damn switch, Kei.” 

Kei — whose eyes stay glued to the carpeted floor — has been acquainted with this side of his brother on very few occasions. Akiteru’s ability to intimidate certainly pales in comparison to Kei’s, but he can abandon his genial demeanor in the blink of an eye when he has to. Kei is familiar with the lour that accompanies his brother’s confrontational temperament, and he doesn’t want to see it. Without looking up, he mumbles a quiet, “Sorry.”

Akiteru leans back, crosses his arms over his chest, and heaves a deep sigh. “I know you didn’t mean it, but you have a horrible attitude when you’re upset.”

The awkward atmosphere in the room is suffocating, but it’s nothing that Kei isn’t used to. The two haven’t had what would be considered a pleasant conversation in years, and Kei admits that he’s partially to blame. Things haven’t been the same since Kei discovered the true nature of Akiteru’s fabricated achievements on Karasuno’s volleyball team five years ago. The resentment Kei initially felt towards his brother stopped building up at some point; it reached its limit and then faded over time. Now it takes on the form of a persistent flame rather than an explosive inferno; not as noticeable, yet still burning strongly.

The chair Akiteru sits in, a rotating one that used to be his but became Kei’s once he moved out, squeaks loudly as he shifts uncomfortably in it. He repeatedly runs a hand through his hair to calm his nerves, a habit Kei has grown both accustomed to and annoyed by over the years. “Listen, I know this is a weird thing to question you about but mom — she’s worried and, well, I think it’s kind of odd too —”

“Just spit it out,” Kei mutters.

“Why would you study at Tadashi’s house? Isn’t his place farther from the school than ours?”

Kei stops to consider the question and if it’s worth evading. 

On their way to school, Tadashi always leaves a few minutes earlier, sometimes halfway through eating his breakfast, to meet Kei at his house before they walk the rest of the way together. On their way home from school, Tadashi always drops Kei off at his house, which is on the way to his own, with a bright smile and a, “Bye, Tsukki!” 

Tadashi’s house _is_ farther from the school than Kei’s and Kei is a terrible liar, which is why he rarely bothers with lying.

Kei glowers at his brother, whose eyes are brimming with anticipation. “I wasn’t at Yamaguchi’s house.”

“I know that,” Akiteru says, throwing his head back in exasperation. “Where were you, though?”

The sour taste in Kei’s mouth returns. He tries to swallow it away, but it’s ever-persistent, just like his child of an older brother. He picks at the dry skin around his nails, and upon doing so, notices how clammy his palms are.

Tadashi’s condition isn’t Kei’s to disclose. As far as Kei is aware, he’s the first and only person to learn of Tadashi’s hospitalization, and not even of Tadashi’s own free will, but telling Akiteru doesn’t sound like it would end in disaster. Akiteru is someone that Tadashi might trust, and he wouldn’t tell anyone within Tadashi’s social circle.

But God forbid Akiteru tells their mother.

“I’ll tell you, but on one condition,” Kei announces, maintaining his icy gaze. “If you tell mom, I’m never speaking to you again. For real this time.”

Akiteru opens his mouth to protest, but opts against it, perhaps realizing that he won’t receive a better offer than the one Kei has decided on. He nods.

“Miyagi Central Hospital,” Kei mumbles while focusing on a particularly stubborn hangnail.

Akiteru’s face twists into one of confusion, his eyebrows furrowed and lips forming a frown. “What were you doing at the hospital?”

“Visiting Yamaguchi,” Kei deadpans, as if it’s so obvious he doesn’t even need to say it.

Akiteru leans so far forward in the squeaky old chair that Kei thinks he might topple out of it. “Why’s he in the hospital?” he exclaims.

“For fuck’s sake, could you keep it down?” Kei reproves. “That’s his business, I can’t tell you.”

As he straightens his posture, Akiteru’s features take on a worried grimace. “Is he okay?”

“He’s not — he’s not _sick_. He’s receiving treatment for — something. I think he’ll be fine.” Stammering his way through an explanation, Kei realizes that he’s not even sure what type of state Tadashi is in. He spent most of his visit trying to take Tadashi’s mind off of his current situation, consequently avoiding questions about his medical progress so as not to overwhelm him. “I’m really not sure, Akiteru. Can we drop it?”

What Kei wants to say is, “Please stop asking me questions I should know the answers to but don’t, it only gives me more things to feel guilty about,” and Akiteru gets the message. 

With a slight nod and a despondent air surrounding him, Akiteru stands to leave the room. “I know you care about him a lot, Kei. You’re trying your best,” he says before closing the door softly behind him.

Kei sits stock-still. Now that his room has returned to silence, all the discomforting sensations he’s felt within the past twenty minutes — the sour taste in his mouth, the knot in his stomach, the throbbing in his temples, the clamminess of his hands — intensify, and distracting himself from them proves difficult. He remembers a grounding technique Tadashi told him about; he said Hitoka had taught it to him: acknowledge five things you can see, four things you can touch, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, and one thing you can taste.

As his breathing quickens, Kei’s eyes flit around his room in frantic search of something; anything. There are so many things in his room, so why is it impossible to find _one_ thing? He spots his red school bag on the floor and his discarded uniform jacket next to it, but the carpeted surface is bare otherwise. His eyes drift to his desk in search of three more things. Placed neatly in succession on the clean light wood are his dinosaur figurines: a Spinosaurus, a Stegosaurus, and a Triceratops.

“Next, touch,” Kei thinks through the static subsuming his brain. His right hand immediately makes its way to his hair, which is rough between his fingers. His left hand shakily clutches the comforter he’s seated on, it’s worn from countless washes. He needs two more things. He stands up and stumbles over to his closet, almost tripping on thin air. First, he touches the metal knob of the closet door, cool and firm beneath his palm. Then, he opens the closet and takes out his favorite sweater, which is the complete opposite of the closet’s handle — warm and soft.

Kei doesn’t feel any better than he did before he started this ridiculous exercise. If anything, he feels worse. The throbbing in his temples has graduated to a tight band of sharp pain wrapped around his head, and a dull, yet incessant ache replaces the knot in his stomach. His mouth isn’t only tainted with acidity, it’s now brimming with saliva as bile rises in his throat. 

The only thing Kei can hear over the fuzziness in his head, loud in his ears, is his own heaving. He needs two more sounds, but his room is dead silent. Does it count if he makes them deliberately? Wouldn’t that defeat the entire purpose? He drops the sweater to clutch his stomach where he feels a painful jab, leaving him breathless. He twists his eyes shut in agony, which sends a torrent of pain rushing through his temples. The bile in his throat rises higher. 

Kei hears a sudden _ding_ from his phone. 

He needs one more sound.

Kei hears his ringtone. It’s muffled, but he can still make out the catchy pop tune Tadashi chose for him last year after telling him the default ringtone he had set was boring. His phone only rings once, so he figures the call isn’t urgent. Still clutching his stomach, he lowers himself slowly until he’s sitting on his knees.

He hears another _ding_. With a grunt, he reaches over to where his phone sits in the pocket of his — still messily splayed out — jacket. He’ll respond to whoever’s texting him if that’s what it takes to shut them up. He imagines it's someone from his class asking for help with the homework that he hasn’t done, or someone from the volleyball team asking why he skipped practice. Just the idea of having to deal with either of those situations right now makes the pain in his head sharper.

He picks up his phone with shaky hands to find three notifications.

 **From: Yamaguchi** [Received October 27th at 6:50 PM]

> _thanks for the lip balm ( ^ _ ^ )_

> _and thanks for visiting me!! i’m really sorry i didn’t tell you sooner_

 **Missed Call From Yamaguchi** [Received October 27th at 6:51 PM]

 **From: Yamaguchi** [Received October 27th at 6:51 PM]

> _I’M SORRY I CALLED YOU BY ACCIDENT MY FINGER SLIPPED ( T ^ T )_

Kei’s gawks at the glowing screen until it darkens. Caught up in the throes of his self-hatred and his uncomfortable conversation with Akiteru, Kei forgot about the events that had led up to him giving Tadashi his lip balm. Tadashi had _kissed his cheek_ and, mortifyingly, he played off his elation by telling Tadashi his lips were dry.

At least, it’s not someone asking for help with homework.

His trembling fingers foil his attempt to text Tadashi back, hitting random keys in between every word of his sentence. There’s a painful twist in his stomach, like someone wringing out the muscle, which reminds him he hasn’t finished the dumb grounding technique he was in the middle of.

Kei sets his phone down on the floor next to him and averts his attention back to his sensory checklist. “Smell. Two things,” he thinks. He inhales deeply through his nose, knowing that his room must smell like _something_. Whatever it is, it’s so insignificant that he can’t pinpoint it.

He pulls the collar of his white button-up shirt up over his nose and sniffs it. It smells like his trip to the hospital — like alcohol and sweat — and erases any progress he might've made within the past few minutes. Tears prick the corners of his eyes. He brings a hand up to brush them away harshly from underneath his glasses. It’s not working.

He reaches out and grabs the sweater he dropped earlier. He doesn’t remember it being so heavy before, the soft blue cashmere now bears significant weight in his hands. In a meager attempt to ground himself, he hesitantly inhales its scent.

Upon smelling the sweater, Kei discovers that his mother washed it recently. It smells like her favorite fabric softener, which smells like lavender. It reminds him of the last time he hugged Tadashi. Tadashi’s cat had died during their second year of middle school and Kei made a very awkward attempt to comfort him. Kei got a whiff of Tadashi’s shampoo due to the fact that the freckled boy was _at least_ one head shorter than him at the time, it smelled like lavender. The two are no longer in each other’s personal space enough for Kei to know if Tadashi still uses the same shampoo he did in middle school, but Kei would like to believe he does. 

The scent sends a stream of calm flowing through his body, which unwinds the tense, aching muscles in his abdomen. His head falls forward, no longer in pain, but heavy with strain. There's nausea still lingering in his throat, so he reluctantly sets down the sweater, ensuring he won’t come to associate the floral scent with vomit.

His hands significantly more steady than before, Kei reaches for his phone again. He knows Tadashi well enough to guess that him opening his best friend’s message and not replying within ten minutes sent the other boy spiraling.

 **To: Yamaguchi** [Sent October 27th at 7:05 PM]

_ > No problem, and you already apologized for npt telling me _

_ >*not _

His hands must not be as steady as he thought.

 **To: Yamaguchi** [Sent October 27th at 7:06 PM]

_ > But that’s my favorite lip balm _

_ > I’ll buy another one in the meantime, but can we share it when you’re back at school? _

Kei doesn’t realize how suggestive his offer sounds until he can’t take it back. He deems it a practical suggestion, as sharing almost anything would be. He doesn’t consider the romantic nature of sharing lip balm until Tadashi fails to respond to his message within five minutes of reading it and that familiar knot assembles in his stomach. He's really screwed up, Tadashi probably thinks he’s being inconsiderate of his current situation by saying such things, not to mention _gross_. 

He lets out a deep, shaky breath. There’s one thing he’s forgetting. He hasn’t completed the grounding technique. Taste. Does the inside of his mouth count? What about the bile in the back of his throat? That would surely make him more anxious, though —

_Ding._

Kei checks his phone hastily before he can complete his thought process.

 **From: Yamaguchi** [Received October 27th at 7:12 PM]

_ > of course we can!!! _

_ > i thought you would want it back bc it tastes sweet and you never share your sweets _

_ > but i’d rather share bc i like the way it tastes too (=｀ω´=) _

Suddenly, something Kei was sure he had left behind in middle school replaces the knot in his stomach and the bile in his throat, something far worse: flushed cheeks and a racing heart.

 **To: Yamaguchi** [Sent October 27th at 7:14 PM]

_ > ? It’s lip balm, not candy _

_ > I like it because it works well.. _

Kei won’t admit he bought it because it was strawberry flavored and not because the packaging said “Contains Vitamin E and SPF 30” — he’s sure Tadashi already knows that. 

He also won’t admit that he thinks it would taste better smeared on his lips after kissing his best friend — Tadashi doesn’t need to know that.

**Author's Note:**

> you've reached the end!!! thank you so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed.
> 
> writing this took much longer than i thought it would, mostly because i was swamped with schoolwork, but also because i put a lot of thought into it. i really wanted to explore the dynamic between akiteru and tsukki + add in some of my own headcanons about them and develop tsukkiyama's backstory a bit, so i hope this was as enjoyable for you as it was self-indulgent for me.
> 
> i originally had no intent of turning that oneshot into a series, but after posting it i couldn't stop thinking about ways to continue it, so here we are!


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